Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/333

Rh He blew no trumpet in the market-place, Nor in the church with hypocritic face Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace; Loathing pretence, he did with cheerful will What others talked of while their hands were still; And, while “Lord, Lord!” the pious tyrants cried, Who, in the poor, their Master crucified, His daily prayer, far better understood In acts than words, was simply doing good. So calm, so constant was his rectitude, That by his loss alone we know its worth, And feel how true a man has walked with us on earth.

welcome to thy sisters of the East,
 * To the strong tillers of a rugged home,

With spray-wet locks to Northern winds released,
 * And hardy feet o’erswept by ocean’s foam;

And to the young nymphs of the golden West,
 * Whose harvest mantles, fringed with prairie bloom,

Trail in the sunset,—O redeemed and blest,
 * To the warm welcome of thy sisters come!

Broad Pennsylvania, down her sail-white bay
 * Shall give thee joy, and Jersey from her plains,

And the great lakes, where echo, free alway,
 * Moaned never shoreward with the clank of chains,

Shall weave new sun-bows in their tossing spray, And all their waves keep grateful holiday. And, smiling on thee through her mountain rains,
 * Vermont shall bless thee; and the granite peaks,